


Flesh and Blood

by jencsi



Category: The Boys (TV 2019)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-28
Updated: 2020-04-28
Packaged: 2021-03-01 20:16:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 532
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23892940
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jencsi/pseuds/jencsi
Summary: She is just as fragile as everyone else, contrary to what she wants them all to believe.
Relationships: The Homelander | John/Madelyn Stillwell
Comments: 1
Kudos: 9





	Flesh and Blood

She’s bleeding. He can see the red droplets gushing down her finger. She curses her carelessness that led to the cut, the broken picture frame, the glass shards scattered across her desk and the floor. She snatches up several tissues from the fancy metal covering that hides the dull cardboard box on the shelf behind her, wrapping them around the wound. 

He watches her tend to the wound with her other free hand, rummaging around in her desk drawer for bandages. He cannot look away from her frantic searching methods, how her face holds an expression of annoyance, how dare this cut interrupt her busy schedule. 

It’s ironic how she reacts to this blood when he knows she has had much more on her hands over the years. He can feel himself smirk at the irony. She must have sensed his thoughts like always because she looks up at him and snaps “Can you help me with this?” 

He rises from the seat he occupied in front of her desk to search the messy drawer for a band aid. Inside he sees random sheets of paper, notes scribbled in her familiar handwriting, old pens, business cards from clients she could care less about, programs from events, little miniature American flags also from these events. It’s a glimpse at her. What she really cares about stays on display on the desk, wall and shelves behind her for all to see versus what she discards like garbage in this drawer. He cannot help but smile because nothing related to him is in this drawer. At least not yet. He’s taking too long to retrieve the band aid and she’s growing impatient, sighing that familiar sigh he knows and associates with her being annoyed, so he’s forced to stop snooping and hand her the bandage. 

She fumbles with the plastic, struggling to unwrap it and apply it securely. He grins at her struggle but he doesn’t know why. Maybe it’s because she’s vulnerable. She’s not like him. Somehow behind that designer button up blouse she wore on purpose for this meeting is a heart that beats but does it feel? He takes pity on her, not that she would for anyone else, and peels back the plastic, wrapping the bandage gently around her finger. 

“All better” he says in a mocking tone, like he would do a child with the same injury. 

He waits for her thank you, but instead she shuts the desk drawer, gathers up the paperwork they had been discussing prior to this moment, adjusts her glasses and says “Now about the building dedication downtown next week, you’ll need to arrive at ten so they can get you set up with a microphone and all that jazz” 

He backs away from the desk, returning to his seat, trying to conceal the rage in his eyes, to pretend like nothing happened, she didn’t need him, he could walk away right now if he wanted. But who was he kidding? She did need him and for some maddening reason, he needed her too. 

“I’ll be there” he says through gritted teeth mirroring a fake smile. Old habits, contrary to the saying, do not die.


End file.
